


Twins

by morningCrescent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU where bro is a good guardian, Cuddling & Snuggling, Frottage, M/M, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6370162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morningCrescent/pseuds/morningCrescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave and Dirk are twins, close as two brothers could possibly be. And, well, maybe even closer than that.</p><p>(aka im a filthy sinner and im going to hell)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> im sorry ok i know i know and i hate myself and im sorry
> 
> yeah so fun fact i actually wrote like 70% of this two years ago but never got around to finishing it until i was just now going through my unfinished fics and decided, fuck it, might as well.

“We’re worried about Dirk.”

Your name is Bro Strider and you have no idea what this is all about.

Miss Darcy, your little brothers’ teacher, had called you in to talk. About what, you weren’t sure—you’re still not sure. For god’s sake, they’re in kindergarten! What is there to talk about?

“Is he in trouble? Whatever he did, he probably—”

“No, nothing like that,” she says, patient and just a little bit condescending, no doubt from years of speaking to small children.

“He ain’t gettin’ picked on by the other kids, is he?” Unlikely, considering you’ve taught Dirk to stand up for himself and, should that fail, Dave never hesitates to take care of his twin brother. But if someone is bullying your little bro, so help you god…

“Not quite. In fact, Dirk hasn’t been interacting with the other children at all. He’s very attached to his brother—it’s not uncommon among twins, actually—and, well, we’re concerned that being in the same class as Dave is inhibiting Dirk’s social development.”

“What are you sayin’?”

“We think Dirk and Dave should be separated, placed in different classes.”

Welp. That’s not too surprising, considering most schools go out of their way to ensure relatives aren’t in the same class. It was probably a fluke or a programming oversight that landed them together in the first place. But still.

“Are you kiddin’ me? Kids’re gonna freak! Dirk don’t do so well with change, and Dave’ll be pissed if he can’t be there to protect his bro.”

“I know it’s a difficult decision, but I hope you will think it over. Ultimately, you know what’s best for your brothers, so we’re leaving the decision up to you. Maybe you should talk about it with them?”

That’s one thing you happen to appreciate about this school: they care what the parents (or guardians, as the case may be) have to say, and usually won’t make any drastic changes that affect the children without consulting said guardians first.

“Yeah…” you sigh, “yeah alright, I’ll talk to ‘em.”

“Thank you.”

* * *

You broach the subject when you get home. Dirk is eating his sandwich in the kitchen while Dave plays in the next room. 

“Hey, kiddo,” you say, leaning on the counter.

“Hi bro,” he says, all serious-like. Kid’s fuckin’ adorable.

“So, listen… I was talkin’ to Miss Darcy earlier today—”

“I like Miss Darcy, she’s nice.”

“Yeah, she is. Anyway, we were talkin’ and she said that you haven’t been playin’ with the other kids?”

“Don’t need to. I play with Dave,” he says absently, peeling the crust off the PBJ in his tiny hands.

“Sure, sure. But don’t you think you oughta make some friends aside from Dave?”

“No. Other kids are dumb and gross. I like Dave best. Don’t need anyone ‘cept for Dave.” He starts nibbling on the sandwich, turning it this way and that to inspect it before every bite.

“Dirk… I know Dave is your best friend. He’s your brother, he’ll always be the most important person in your life. But that don’t mean you can’t make other friends, too.”

You won’t deny, it’s precious how devoted the boys are to one another—shit’s practically romantic, in the most innocent way—but you don’t want it to get in the way of them developing normal, healthy relationships apart from each other.

“I don’t like the other kids. They’re too loud and messy and stupid. Don’t want other friends. Only Dave.”

 _Only Dave_. You have a feeling you’ll be hearing that one for years to come.

* * *

The next year, the boys are in the same class with the same teacher. Apparently it's a thing the school does sometimes for the first two years if the kids really bond with their instructor.

“Oh, Bro!” Dave says suddenly one afternoon. The three of you are sitting in the living room watching cartoons.

“What's up, little man?”

“We’re getting a new teacher.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Miss Darcy is getting married!"

“Wow, good for her.”

“What's married, Bro?”

“Well... it's when two people love each other a lot and decide to spend their lives together.”

“Oh! I wanna be married with Dirk then!” You laugh. Dirk doesn’t look away from the television. “What's so funny?”

“I'll explain when you're older,” you say, patting Dave’s head. He pouts.


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Dave Strider and you think you might like dudes. Barely thirteen and unsure what to do with this newfound information, you turn to the person you know you can trust with anything.

“Dirk,” you say one night, words hanging in the empty space between your beds.

“Hm.” His voice is a familiar monotone. Most people think it’s strange how little variation in tone he has, but you’ve learned over the years to decipher every sound he makes. It’s second nature to you.

“What if… what if I was, I dunno, like, gay or something.”

“Or something.”

“I just mean… I think I might be into guys. Like. Romantically.”

“Any guy in particular?”

“No! I mean, I don’t think so. Maybe. Probably not.”

“Is it John?” he asks almost teasingly.

“Fuck you! I don’t know, man, I don’t… I dunno.”

“Well what are you telling me for?”

“Wow, here I am confiding my deepest secrets in you and you’re just being a dick.”

“Did you expect anything else?” You groan in exaggerated frustration. “If it makes a difference, I think I probably like guys, too.”

“Anyone in particular?”

“Nah.” You think he might be lying.

“How do we know? I mean, how do we figure it out for sure?”

“I guess you find a person and realize you like them, and if they’re a guy then you probably like guys. Or maybe just that one guy. Who knows.”

“I know I shouldn’t be confused and I should just go with the flow but... I feel kinda confused.”

“About liking dudes? We’re still young, nothing’s set in stone. And anyway, it doesn’t mean you can’t still like girls if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I mean, I know that, I just… I dunno. I feel weird. And I don’t think it’s about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“That’s the problem, I’m not sure.”

“Just a general weird feeling, huh?”

“Yeah…” you sigh.

“Do you wanna…” He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to know what he’s asking. It’s something you’ve done ever since you were little.

“Yeah,” you say quietly.

You hear the springs of his mattress groan as he gets up, his footfalls as he crosses the room. Then you feel his warmth as he crawls into bed next to you and wraps you in his arms.

You’re probably getting to the age where this would be considered weird, but quite frankly you don’t care. You both need this sometimes; the world isn’t always so easy for Dirk to deal with, and you have embarrassing amounts of insecurity. The two of you do your best to hide those feelings and put up a tough exterior, but you and he know both know that you’re just a couple of scared kids inside.

It’s admittedly a little awkward that, at this age, your body kind of associates intimacy with sex and it’s hard to control your arousal even though Dirk is your god damned brother, for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you? Wow where did that train of thought come from, it needs to go away like yesterday, choo choo everybody get the fuck off the incest train, there will be no more stops, this train is being decommissioned and turned into scrap.

Okay, calm, not turned on at all, just spooning with your twin brother, yeah, nothing weird at all. Everything is fine. You are falling asleep. You are going to slip into sweet unconsciousness and wake up in the morning and everything will be normal. You’ll be a normal kid with a normal crush on his normal friend. Then again, since when has anything in the Strider household been remotely normal?

Fortunately the racing thoughts subside, and all you can think about is the comfort of Dirk curled around you, the steady sound of his breathing—he must have fallen out already—and you find yourself feeling relaxed, safe even. This is fine, this is okay. As long as Dirk is there for you and you’re there for Dirk, everything will be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

Your name is Dirk Strider, you are fifteen-and-a-half years old, and you think you might have a crush on your twin brother.

It’s all kinds of fucked up, you know that, but you can’t help it! Dave is the only person who’s ever fully understood you—yeah, you have some friends of your own, but they don’t _get_ you the way Dave does.

For all they try, there are simply things about you they will never understand. Like the way you can say the same thing in the same way but mean it differently, or the way just about every form of social interaction makes you anxious, or the way certain textures are literally unbearable to touch (dry towels after a long shower, eurgh), or the way you have to separate and inspect your food before you eat it.

Dave understands. He’s always been there for you, defending you when you needed defending, comforting you when you needed comforting. You love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone else. And maybe it’s just hormones, but over the past year or so, that love has started to change in nature. Now you don’t just want to cuddle with him when you’re feeling really down; you find yourself wanting to cuddle with him frequently, wanting to snuggle up to him and kiss him on the mouth, on the neck—hell, sometimes you even want to do more than kissing.

It all comes to a head one night, not unlike that one when you both confessed to liking guys. You can’t fall asleep and, judging by the pattern of his breathing, Dave can’t either.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey,” he says.

“Got something on your mind?”

“Nah,” he says. You’re not so great at reading people, but you have a feeling he’s lying.

“Are you lying?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“…Wanna snuggle?” You’re usually the one to initiate, but you’re careful only to ask when you’re pretty sure he needs it.

“…Yeah.”

You make your way over to his bed and nestle yourself behind him as you have many times before. He’s warm and thin in your arms—he seems to be growing into a lankier physique than you are. He’s bony and wiry and almost bird-like, shoulder blades sticking out like wings. You bury your face in the back of his head, inhaling the scent of his hair; it smells like the conditioner you both use, only his hair is softer because he doesn’t style it with product like you do.

Impulsively, you press a kiss right into the silky locks. Dave just lets out a pleased sigh and presses back against you.

 _This is fucked up_ , something in the back of your brain says, but. It feels right, and natural, having Dave in your arms like this, his familiar heat warming the front of your body. Cautiously, you kiss him again, just behind the ear. His breath hitches slightly, almost imperceptibly, a stilted noise muffling in the back of his throat.

After a moment of stillness on both your parts, he turns towards you, just a little. His head twists around and you can see his eyes, bright and shining in the dark, boring into your own. Panic rises in your chest and you’re sure he’s disgusted and you’re readying a frantic apology, an excuse, _no what of course I wasn’t trying to kiss you what are you talking about that would be weird I would never_ —

“Dirk,” he says softly, as if afraid to disturb the air between you.

“Uh,” is all you manage. He looks… scared, you think, and even though you’ve always been able to read Dave you can’t tell what he’s thinking right now and that terrifies you.

“Can. Can I, um. Shit.” He gives up on words, and instead moves his face closer, slowly as if to give you time to back off. His nose touches yours, and. And his breath is casting over your face and your heart is doing. Something. And his hair tickles against your forehead, and his eyes dart down and back up again, and—

And he kisses you, just sort of… touches his lips to yours, dry and uncertain, and you jerk back in surprise. You can see the alarm in his eyes, the words rising in his throat, and so you kiss him back.

You know fuck-all about kissing, always too disgusted, too caught up in worrying over the germs and the taste of someone else’s bad breath to even pay it much mind in movies. Your lips work awkwardly against his, but Dave responds enthusiastically all the same. He twists the rest of his body to better mirror yours, presses one hand to your chest and cradles the other around the back of your head. Your own hands move to hold his face, thumbs tracing up his jaw.

His breaths gust hotly against your cheek, nose occasionally colliding with your own. Experimentally, you touch your tongue to the seam of his lips and. Holy fuck, he just. Parts them and coaxes you in and. Oh. Oh god, that’s. Really fucking hot. His tongue rubs against yours, warm and wet and this should be disgusting but your head is swimming with blood and all you can think is _Dave, oh my god I’m kissing Dave, my tongue is Inside Dave’s Mouth_ and the way he sort of whines and moans into you makes you push in further, pull him closer, draw his body flush against yours and tangle your legs with his and—

“ _Ohh shit_ ,” he hisses sloppily, mouth still partly occupied with yours, when your thigh brushes decidedly against his crotch. That’s. Definitely a boner, isn’t it. Hesitantly, you press your thigh more firmly into him and he chokes on a moan, holy shit, his chest heaves and he shoves his face into the crook of your neck and he presses his mouth against your skin to muffle the desperate whimpers spilling out of him.

You shift so your groin is aligned with his and, _god_ , you’ve never. Never tried anything like this with another person, never thought you would find someone worth trying it with, unless it was Dave you were sure it would never happen. You wrap your arms around his back, guiding him closer. You huff into his hair, unable to let the low groans leave the back of your throat.

He surges against you, wanting and unpracticed, hitches a leg over your hip and you gasp, the contact pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You bury your face in his hair and melt into the silken texture, heat bubbling through you. You’re amazed at how easily he’s fallen apart in your arms. Dave—your brother who has always stood up for you, always protected you, always so full of bluster and bravado—is reduced to a whimpering mass of arousal beneath your touch.

Both of you grow more erratic, more desperate in your movements, and when you tighten your hold on him he cries out.

“ _Dirk_ , shit, I love you, this is fucked up, we’re fucked up, I love you,” he breathes, and bites down on your neck as he comes and the jolt of pain throws you over the edge as well.

Just as quickly, he’s reaching back up to kiss you again, carelessly smearing his lips across yours and you moan into him and just. Hold him, shaking slightly, barely comprehending what just happened and terrified that you’ll wake up to find it was all some sick dream.

The unpleasant sensation of jizz cooling in your pants makes you suspect otherwise. As your previously fervent arousal dies down, you nudge Dave, who has fallen into a sort of sleepy afterglow.

“Hey, dipshit,” you say gently. He grumbles and bats aimlessly in your general direction. “Take your pants off.”

“Bit late for that, ain’t it,” he mumbles. You roll your eyes.

“We need to clean up.”

Begrudgingly, he reaches over you to grab another pair of boxers from under his bed—“Gross,” you note—and swaps them out for his soiled ones, which he then tosses into the Teenage Boys’ Pile Of Nasty Shit In The Corner. After changing into a fresh pair of your own, you resume your place by Dave’s side. He’s already drifting off again, but when he feels you return to bed he clings to you like a baby koala or some shit.

“Dave?” you whisper. He hums, but doesn’t seem in a state of mind to properly respond, so you figure talking about what just happened will have to wait until morning. You can’t say you’re particularly looking forward to that conversation, but. Well, maybe this means. You hate to get your hopes up, but it’s undeniable. You just had (sort-of) sex with your brother (ugh so fucked up) and you liked it and he liked it and he said he loves you? Maybe in a not-just-brotherly way? And. Well. Maybe this will be your new status quo. And maybe you would kind of sort of really fucking love that.

“Dave,” you say again, quieter. His eyes are closed, his breathing is even. “That was. We. I’m, uh. I… love you.”

His breath goes funny for a second, like a soundless laugh.

“Lv y’too.”


End file.
